


You're The Medicine I Need

by bulletsiero



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bullying, Childhood, Childhood Sweethearts, Childhood Trauma, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Hospitalization, M/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletsiero/pseuds/bulletsiero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Iero and Gerard Way were the best of friends. They go so far back, some people mistake them for being step-brothers. But in the fifth grade, Gerards mother tells them some news. Frank doesn't see Gerard at school anymore; he isolates himself at first, then tries to make friends. But when that doesn't succeed at the end of the sixth grade, he isolates himself to his mother only, since that is who he only has left. Flash forward to his senior year in high school, he sees the new kid everyone is talking about. Instead of fearing him, he finds him actually quite attractive. But who is this mysterious guy? And why is he so appealing?</p><p>                                                                                        (INACTIVE STORY)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Gerard!” My mom called. “It’s time to come inside before your dinner gets cold!” I looked up at Frank with a sad face. He was a year younger, but we still had a ton of fun together.   
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Frankie!” I said, getting up and running inside my home. It was home to four people and a dog, so five people. I sat across from my younger brother, Mikey, after washing my hands, ridding the sand and dirt from under my nails. My mom brought over the backed chicken and mashed potatoes. Mikey immediately got excited by sitting on his knees in the chair, which my mom thought was very inappropriate.  
“Michael,” My mom said in a low voice. He knew what that meant and quickly changed how he sat in the chair. “Thank you,” she said quietly. My father was first to pick what he wanted. No one argued with what he did or he made you wish you never said a word. The my mom, I, and finally my brother who got whatever was left. But, trust me; he took what he knew he was going to eat. If one of us left food on the plate, my father would get very angry with us, especially with my mom. Some nights I would hear him yelling that she cooked too much or her cooking was horrible that night. Perhaps she was stupid for cooking too much or idiotic for not doing enough. Whoever left food on their plate would be beaten in some way.   
There would never be a minimum or maximum to his abuse. No matter what we did, even if we did nothing, we would have at least three bruises somewhere. Even one night, when he was drinking a lot and my mom was out with Mikey. Mikey had a high fever and it worried my mom, so after dinner she took him to a 24-hour clinic. My father swore he saw me steal a snack from the cabinet. Though, I didn’t. For my punishment, he decided that I would learn if I made him feel good and made myself feel bad. So, I pleasured him by force. When my mom got home, I tried to tell her, but she was busy with Mikey. I kept cooped up to myself ever since.   
“Gerard, honey, please don’t play with your food,” I heard my mom tell me. I whispered my apology to her and began to eat. I could feel someone staring at me and I figured it was my father’s eyes. I ignored what feelings I felt and hoped that I wouldn’t have to show up to school the next day with a black eye or bruises on my arms. It mad e me nervous but my brother and I knew that if the teachers asked, or anyone, we would tell them that my brother and I got playing rough again.  
My mom told my brother and I yesterday night before we went to bed that tonight we would be moving. She didn’t tell us why or where, but she did say that our father wasn’t going with us. I was thankful for that, but I was upset that I would no longer see Frank at school or play with him in the evening.   
After dinner, my brother and I hurried to put our dishes in the sink and go upstairs. With my mind racing, I hadn’t thought much about how Frank is going to feel when I tell him. I grabbed the two suitcases I had and only packed the most important things in it. We had moved once before and that’s what we did. My father walked into my room and demanded me to stay still and drop my pants. While I did so, he closed and locked the door behind him. I didn’t hear anything and sort of expected his next move. I felt the familiar warm stinging on my back and screamed in reaction. He continued to do this six times in a row before he left me to gather myself. My ten-year-old self curled up in a ball after he left. My mom walked in and helped me gather myself. She grabbed my two packed bags and walked away.   
Slowly she opened her door to her room, it creaked slowly. I saw her peek her head in and then gradually close the door again. She gathered my brother and I and we left without another word. My brother and I sat in the back seat together of my mom’s black E39 M5. I curled up in the seat and fell asleep, considering it was close enough to my bed time. 

The next day I woke up and forgot I was in the car, not my bed. Deep inside I miss the bed, but we’re moving and were unable to take it. We were in the back of a Walmart parking lot. My mom had the car turned off and fell asleep sometime. I stretched out while rubbing my eyes. Mikey poked the side of me, causing me to jump.   
“Mikey!” He giggled and covered my face. We had woken our mom up and she turned towards both of us. She gave us a glare and we both straightened up. But suddenly her glare broke out into a smile. Her smile relaxed both of us and we all chuckled.  
“Mommy,” I began, “I don’t feel well.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still exploring around with this story as I write. Though, since I moved, I haven't had the best connection getting internet to my laptop. Right now I do, however. Enjoy <3

After days of being out in the car, out of school, not seeing Frank, I began to just feel sick. Maybe I wasn’t used to not being on a schedule? Once my mom found a motel away from home, we all cleaned up and she took me to the nearest clinic promptly. She believed I caught a stomach bug or a simple cold, or perhaps even some allergies. We waited in the waiting room for what seemed to hours on hours of just sitting and swinging my feet so slowly. From afar, I heard a women’s voice saying my name. I looked over at my mom who stood up grabbing my younger brother’s hand. I followed her moves and stood beside her. She gently pushed me from my back in front of her. I slowly walked to the lady who had called my name.  
She ushered me into an empty, cool room. My mom took a seat in the chair beside the large bed, covered with a thin layer of paper. She sat my brother on the floor beside the chair. He quickly became fascinated in the few toys and books in the corner, near him. Being a small child, I had to literally climb onto the bed. It felt as if I was rock climbing, and I was horrible at it. After many, many failed attempts, my mom helped me reach the top of the bed. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, which made my mom chuckle softly.  
The doctor came in and sat down with my mom and I. He asked questions that only my mom could answer. How in the world do I know if there was someone in my family that has or had diabetes? Apparently on my mom’s side of the family we do. He got up and grabbed the thing that in most doctor movies the doctor has around his neck. “Take a deep breathe in,” he said, “And out,” following my breathing patterns. We continued to do this several times on my chest and back.  
Apparently his name is, Brinsfield, Dr. Brinsfield. Well, he went back to his computer and clicked his mouse a few times. Then he came over with another thing, that thing that looks like the other thing and does almost the same thing, but it doesn’t. It looks into someone’s eyes. He held his index finger up and instructed me to follow his finger with my eyes, but don’t move my head. I followed what he told me to do. Later, after many more tests with him, he told us he would be back in a while.  
Before he came back, a nurse walked in. The same lady who had called my name. This time, she had small, rectangular packages on a tray. She lifted and rolled my sleeve up almost to my shoulder and I knew what she was going to do. I squirmed away from her and tried to run out of the room. But my mom caught me and sat me in her lap. I whined at the top of my lungs. How dare she let this happen to me?  
The nurse got on her knees and rubbed the crease of elbow with a not even damp piece of cloth or gauze. Wiggling around in my mom’s lap, she held me still as much as possible. The evil lady slid the needle into my veins and I began to cry. My mom rubbed my back slowly and gently to soothe me of my tears. After taking my blood so viciously, the nurse left and my mom held me tightly. Thanks to the nurse for making me cry, I felt suddenly ten times worse than ever. Mikey brought over a toy car and told me I could play with it. Once I looked at it thoroughly, I realized it was his all-time favorite car. I smiled at him as he sat back with the toys. I span the wheels on the little metal car fast, then slowly, analyzing it’s every move and shine. Soon, the doctor came back without my blood, but instead a few papers. He insisted that he and my mom talked out of the room in private, so she sat me next to Mikey. I held onto the toy car he gave me since he didn’t ask for it back.  
My mom walked in and I saw her eyes sparkling, but her mouth was frowning. Were her eyes happy but her mouth not? What in the world does this mean? Am I even okay? What’s wrong with me?! She took my brother and I’s hand and walked out of the office, across the street to our car. She reassured me that everything was just fine and that I was feeling just a bit under the weather. I would have believed her if it wasn’t for the fact that when I did have a cold, I didn’t feel the same way I do right now. She took my brother and I to a nearby market.  
“Go pick out one Lunchable that has a drink inside,” My mom said, letting go of our hands to go pick our lunch. Me, of course, chose the pizza one, and my brother picked out the bologna and cheese. My mom took us to check out and bought our lunch. We sat in the car and enjoyed every bite. Since I was feeling, “Under the weather,” I only ate one out of three of my pizzas. Mikey took our trash and quickly threw it away in the nearby trashcan. I curled up in my seat, just feeling worse and worse by the seconds.  
“Mommy, I still feel icky,” I whine. She lets out a sigh from in front of me. “I know you do, you’re a special kind of icky,” she replies, turning to look at me. I attempted to smile at her, but it failed. Mikey used his fingers to push the ends of my mouth into a curve, making it look like I was smiling. We all busted out into giggles, until my laughter ended short when I felt my lunch coming up.  
Within half an hour, I have vomited and now been admitted into a hospital. My main goal is to try to figure out what she meant by, “Special type of icky.” Was I so special that I couldn’t be just “Normal type of icky”?  
All of a sudden, my surroundings had changed. My eyes first saw a busy waiting room, so many colors, so many moving things. Now, I see just a white room and bigger doctor stuff around me. I had a needle, sort of like the one they took my blood with, in my arm. It had tape over it; they mustve known what I would do. Are they reading my thoughts? How are they able to get into my mind? I looked frantically around for someone and I saw no one. Not even my mom or Mikey or a nurse. My attempts at trying to call out for someone didn’t work. My voice wasn’t working. Each time I tried to call out, no sound was made.  
My mind went into its own panic mode and I could no longer function properly. I couldn’t see right, to begin with. Everything was distorted like a Picasso painting. Some things would even become 3D or move slightly. I got up and tried to go to the door, but everytime I took a step, my feet would dent the wooden floor. Time past and I finally reached the door; I wish I never opened it.  
There was a ton of blood everything and needles rolling on the floor towards me. The only power I had in the hospital went out, sending my mind into deep panic mode. My body began to shake and I cried, holding onto myself. My body began to shake even harder and unexpectedly my vision went white. Everything was a bright, blinding white.  
Next to me was my mom, my brother, and someone else. She didn’t look like a nurse or doctor. In fact, she looked quite casual. I cried into my mom’s chest also hiding my face behind my small hands. I felt her hands rubbing my back and her soothing words in my ears. I turned my head to look at my arm and saw the same needle in my arm.  
My breathing quickened and my mom picked up on it. The lady that is foreign to me tried to do something with the needle in my arm. As she touched my arm, I pulled back and pushed her away. My mom gently punished me for doing what I did.  
“Mommy!” I screamed out, “Get that monster away from me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the love on this story. Hope it goes far! <3


	3. Chapter 3

Many doctors visited me within eight months. I had been in many different hospitals all over the country. Many nights I couldn’t sleep, being so terrified that something would happen. If that didn’t happen, I was so worn out from many different tests I fell asleep suddenly. Two nights ago I was in Indiana but now my mom, brother and I are in Houston, Texas.   
It was scary how all of this happened so suddenly. I’m still not even sure what is wrong with me. The other morning, my mom was brushing my hair in the hospital. She took note that there was more hair on the brush than normal. I began to even notice that my hair was thinning very quickly.   
No matter where I went, there were needles. I’m still frightened by the dream I had the one day. I’m still questioning how and when I fell asleep that day.   
But on more important matters, my birthday was less than three days from now. I’m pretty excited, but I begged my mom for the past few hours for me not to be in a hospital during my birthday. She said she would do her best but she couldn’t promise. I would let out a sigh of frustration and be upset for no more than half an hour.   
Days continued on and soon it was my eleventh birthday. My morning I spent in a hospital, it was a deal my mom and I made together. I would spend 7am to 11am in the hospital. After that time frame, we would go celebrate. I was saddened I even had to spend an hour in a hospital, but I couldn’t argue with my mom.   
My mom’s phone rang and she hadn’t seen the caller ID in ages. She got up and walked out of the room, leaving Mikey and I alone, listening to the morning cartoons. Very soon, she came back into the room holding her phone outward, as if someone was still talking to her. She handed the phone to me and smiled at me. I was nervous to answer or talk to the person who was on the other end, but I did anyway.  
“Hello..?” I said, timidly and low.   
“Gerard!” I heard the other voice say.  
I immediately recognized the voice as the person I had to leave behind. A huge smile crossed my face.   
“Where are you? I miss you!”  
“I’m not quite sure,” I lied, “But I’ll be back soon, Frankie.”  
Frank didn’t believe me, I was sure of that. But, I knew that at some point we would be reunited. After talking for almost an hour, I had to hang up and get ready to leave. Frank talked about how nobody wanted to be his friend. I told him that no matter where I was, I would always be his friend. I told him what my mom, brother and I were going to do this afternoon. We would go out to a casual place to eat, fairly simple. Then a park that my mom said was nearby. Our next stop was a toy store for me to pick a few gifts out for myself. To end the day, we would get icecream. To me, it sounded like a great way to spend a day. Especially when for months on end you’ve barely touched trees or even dirt. Just pavement and cold tiles.  
My mother packed up the very few things we had with us in the hospital. Mainly hygienic things, like tooth brushes and tooth paste. She grabbed my younger brothers’ hand and the bag with our belongings. I walked beside her, my hand dragging across the pale blue wall.   
The cool, spring air hit my face as the doors moved to the side. It felt relaxing on my warm cheeks and refreshed my mind. As we got in the car, my mom noticed that she left her phone back in the hospital room. She left us in the car, knowing she would only be gone for no more than five minutes. The room was only on the third floor.   
I saw a shadow by the next car. Me, being a child, knew no better and thought it was just another citizen getting into their car. I saw the man look into our car. It came to me that this was just not another citizen getting into his car. He was looking for something else.   
My brother.  
He tried opening the door, which the door was not locked. He gave Mikey and I both a crooked tooth grin. The mysterious man had only snatched Mikey before I could grab his arm to make him stay. I tried to scream, get someone’s attention. It didn’t work quickly enough, so I got out of the car when my mom was returning. She grabbed my shoulders and kneeled down to my height.   
I was anxious, trying to get out of my mothers grip. She was trying to calm me down, though it wasn’t working. No matter what, I kept breathing hard and trying to get free.   
“Mikey,” I said through pants, “He took Mikey!”

 

SEVEN YEAR TIME 

 

I held the white paged schedule in front of me. I was looking for room 7-C. I stumbled across the room just after the bell had rung. I’m supposing it was the late bell. The teacher in the room gave me a stare, as the room suddenly grew silent.   
“Are you the new student?”  
I nodded slowly. She assigned me a seat next to a kid who dressed in Hollister apparel. It was an art class and I hoped I would be able to enjoy it, considering it was three fourths of the way into the school year. To be exact, it was February. My childhood illness had ended almost a year ago and I was in complete remission. I stayed in an apartment in New Jersey with my mom for a year until my hair grew back more. The last thing I wanted to be picked on for was for being bald.   
Things were still hard for me. Mikey was still missing, and the police and detectives had given up after a year. The trail had gone cold, but I still remember the man’s face vividly and everything that happened that very afternoon. I’m currently on a special medication that helps with my anxiety, severe depression, and PSTD. I go to a support group every Tuesday and visit a therapist every Thursday.  
The teacher came over and taught me about today’s lesson. The kids were making kirigami and were on the last step of it. She gave me all the supplies and left, coldly. I began to do my rough copies before drawing it out on the final sheet.   
Before I knew it, the bell rung and chaos began. Everyone was getting up, chairs were making a ton of noises, everyone was yelling at each other in order to hear. I panicked internally and rushed my way out. I looked at my next class, Algebra II, with Mrs. Hernes in room 3-A.  
Again, just like in art, I was late to class. The teacher asked if I had a note for being late. I shook my head no. We only seemed to get to get off on the wrong side already.   
It seemed like no one understood I was new. I couldn’t get my locker open. I had tried this morning with no luck either. I looked to my right and saw no one approachable. Looked to the left, and saw someone who might share the same interests as me. I tapped his shoulder timidly and he turned his head to my direction, with a raised eyebrow.   
“Uh, could you, maybe like,” I was tripping over my words, my heart skipping it’s beats and my mind stumbling to think of what I needed to say, “Help me open my locker? This is my first time having a locker.”  
A smile crossed his face and shook his head, “Sure, man. Nice shirt,” he commented. I gave him a small smile back as a thank you.   
I showed him my schedule with the locker combination and he turned the dials back and forth. The locker suddenly opened after pulling down on the lock. He told me how he did it and I made a mental note of it. I thanked him and he scurried off to his next class. I shoved my new textbooks in the locker and shut it.   
By 2:45, the afternoon announcements had ended and it was less than a minute before the bell would ring. The guy who helped me with my locker was in my last class, which was English. He was a pretty guy, pretty hot. I stared at him throughout the class and I don’t think anyone caught onto my stares,   
The English teacher was the nicest teacher I have. She asked if I was okay sitting where I was, if I understood everything, etc. Every other teacher would give me the cold shoulder. As if they didn’t care they were helping the children of the future.   
My mom told me that I would be riding bus 833 home. I quickly scanned the line of busses quickly, so I wouldn't miss it. It was the third to last in the line. There must have been like 30 busses! The driver didn’t hear that I was riding for now on and asked for my address. I panicked and tried to keep it to myself. I found an empty seat on the right.   
The ride home was long, and rough. The driver stopped at the end of my road where I know live and one other person got up. I stood up as well. The boy was the same one that helped my open my locker. He looked at me and saw my shaking.  
“Are you okay?” He asked.  
I nodded my head, “First time riding a bus, you know,” I gave a corner smile.   
“Did you come from homeschooling all of a sudden?” He said with a chuckle.  
“Sort of.”   
I walked to my mailbox and he stopped. He went from a friendly mood to a saddened face.   
“Everything okay?”   
“Yeah, I just got thinking of someone I used to know.”  
I nodded my head and entered my home. My mom was home to greet me in the living room. She saw that guy and I talking and questioned me about him. I still had no clue as to who he even was.   
She made me half a sandwich and a glass of milk to go with it. I loved her for the time she devoted to me. She warned me that in an hour I would be going to my support group. Usually our meeting lasted an hour long. No more, unless we were really deep into our topic of conversation.  
My mom and I sat on the couch with the news on the TV. She basically interviewed me on how my day went. We could spend hours talking together, it didn't matter. In all honesty, we only have each other. Mikey was never found, my father, God only knows what happened to him.   
Just me and my mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, so Gerard met someone! I sort of left off on a cliff hanger, I mean, you don't know who it is. I didn't truly describe him. But, I think we all have a pretty good idea of who it is. But anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

My group session ended and I walked out of the building to the parking lot. I saw a group of skaters at the corner. My eyes could only recognize the guy that helped me with my locker earlier today. He was being cute, as always.

Did I really just think that? That was weird. But it’s the truth.

My mom honked the horn of her car to get my attention. I flinched greatly and glanced at her. She was chuckling to herself. I looked at the group of guys and they were looking back at me. The locker guy waved, said a few things before the other guys left and ran over to me. 

“What are you doing here?” He said with a smile, looking ten times better than he did when he saw my house. 

“Just, you know, therapy and such,” I waved my arm around.

“I never caught your name, new guy. My names Frank,” He informed me, holding his hand out. I reached out and told him, “My name is Gerard.” 

All of a sudden, again, he got that sad face back, but tried to hide it quickly. “Why are you sad again?”

He shook his head no and told me that it’s all fine and okay. He told me how he had a childhood friend named Gerard as well. One day he stopped showing up to school, he even remembered the last time they were together. The last time he talked to him was on his birthday, the first birthday away from him. From there, they lost connection.

“I just gave up and tried to forget he ever existed in my life. Some points in my life I just think that he was one of my imaginary friends. That’s how far I’ve gone to forget him”

It hit me. It just hit me that Frank, the guy I’m talking to, was the Frank from my childhood. I immediately pull him in for a hug and I feel his hands wrap around his back. 

“You are Gerard? Like, Gerard Way?” Frank asked. I nodded in response. Our hug lasted for forever, and I never wanted it to end, really. 

“When are you available to meet up with me?” 

“Today, tomorrow, Thursday I have therapy but after that I’m available. Anytime, really.”

Frank told me that he would meet me at my house in a little. I got in the car with my mom and she smiled at me. When she started driving, that’s when she started the questions. I sighed with a smile on my face, however. 

When we got home, my mom was fully informed on what went on in front of the therapy building. Frank was sitting on our front door steps. I thought how could he be here quicker than us? But then I knew my mom would take the longer route to get home so I wasn’t rushed to tell everything. She wanted to know every single word.

I got out and smiled at him, walking over and opening the door for him. I showed him around the house before going upstairs. Frank remembered the house more than I did, which was sort of scary. Unless he had a friend that moved in after me, but moved out quickly. 

“So,” Frank started, “What’s been going on these six, seven years?”

I let out a big sigh. I told him how I’ve battled leukemia, been on the move constantly, and had actually been to every state but California and New Jersey at least twice. He then asked how Mikey was doing, considering he hasn’t seen him either. 

“I wish I knew how he was, I really do.” 

“Did he die?” Frank put his hand on my back and rubbed it slowly. Tears fell down my face and I shrugged my shoulders.

“Possibly? I don’t know. I always have my hopes up that he’s still alive. Still breathing, eating, drinking, walking. But it’s been too long. Too long with a foreign person.”

Frank knew then what happened to Mikey. He felt terribly sad for what happened to Gerard and his mom. He put pieces together, and realized Gerard has problems with coping Mikey’s disappearance and went to therapy for that. 

I was still crying, and I could tell Frank was unsure of what to do. I laid down on my bed and he followed me there. He wrapped his arms around me and I felt safe very quickly. Not even my mom could make me feel this safe as Frank did. Well, actually no. 

 

A MONTH LATER

 

Frank was invited back to my house every day but Tuesdays and Thursdays. He came back everyday, except my therapy days. We played video games, read comics, talked about teachers. He made me feel happier than I have in my entire life time. 

“Gerard,” I looked over in reaction of him calling my name. 

“I got a pair of Smashing Pumpkins tickets, wanna tag along with me and a few of my friends?” I nodded my head in response, smiling like a fool. He informed me that it was tonight; but I still refused to care. It was in my top five favorite bands! 

Frank didn’t need to get ready, but I changed shirts so I didn’t look like a fool wearing a Misfits shirt to a Smashing Pumpkins show. I mean, people probably wouldn’t judge me for wearing it, but it would fill me up with anxiety going to a show not wearing a shirt of theirs.

Frank and I left soon after changing and waited in line for the doors to open in an hour. Luckily it was warm out this day. Warm enough that I could stand it, considering it was March.

“Hey, Gerard,” Frank started. I let out a small ‘hm’, in response as well as looking to him.

“I’ve known you for a while, and I’m really falling for you. Like, we’re talking head over heels in love with you.”

I smiled, “I feel the same for you, Frankie. Even though I’ve forgotten about you over the years, my love for you is back in full-force.”

He planted his lips on top of mine and kissed me slowly. Frank put his right hand behind my neck and his left hand on my back. My hands made its way to Franks back, pulling him closer. After a few seconds, he pulled away. He held my hand the entire time of being in line.

Franks friends showed up before the doors opened and they started talking. Frank showed them to me and held our hands up. They all cheered for Frank and high-fived him.

The doors opened and people shoved their ways in. I’ll say, I am scared to be here, but it was my first concert. And I didn’t really have any connections to people or internet to know what concerts are like.

By the time the concert started, I didn’t feel any better. I’d prefer to be towards the back than the dead middle where everyone was shoulder to shoulder. Frank let go of my hand to put his hands in the air and jump around. A few people pushed by me and I turned out to see an open circle with men fighting. Or what seemed to be fighting. 

Frank noticed what I was trying to take in myself. He cheered the several men on and pushed me in there, as well. My heart was beating harder than it really should. The guys started shoving me around and at some point I was punched in the face, stomach and neck. I attempted to find my way out of there, but they kept shoving me. So much, I couldn’t find my way out. I was kept going around in circles. 

Someone I didn’t recognize grabbed my arm and pulled it with great force. That person was able to get me out of the fighting. I wanted to go home and cry. I was shaking so hard, if someone held my hand, their hand would be shaking as well. I heard a feminine voice, so I figured it was a lady who pulled me out. She took me outside and I knew she wouldn’t be able to get back in. 

She asked how old I was and I told her I was 17. Then she asked for my mother or fathers phone number. I gave her my mom’s number as she dialed it into her phone. She was talking with my mom and I stood, my arms folded against my stomach, sobbing with tears running down my face. 

Within 20 minutes my mom was there to pick me up. I quickly walked over with blood and tears still running down my face, staining my shirt. I sat in her car and she quickly panicked.

“Gerard,” she said in her louder voice, in a caring way, not really screaming or yelling, “What did you do, baby?” 

She drove me to the hospital as I told her through sobs as to what happened. Frank pushed me into a group of men fighting and they didn’t know it was me. 

The doctors said I had a broken nose, cut lip, and a bruised intestine. The doctor wanted me to stay for a few days in order for him to make sure I didn’t have any long-term problems. I curled up in the fresh bed. My mom sat beside me and comforted me gently. 

I told her that before the show, waiting in line, that Frank expressed his feelings for me. That we even kissed, as well. I wasn’t sure of our current relationship between him and I, but my mom broke it down to me.

She explained that maybe Frank might have lied to me as a joke. Maybe it was a prank between him and his friends. Then I felt like cow poop. He used me for his own humor. He probably saw me getting hurt the whole time! Probably laughed at me, too. I’ve never felt so used in my life before. 

As the days went on I was still in the hospital. It hurt to breathe and eat. The doctors were giving me medicine for the pain and to help heal the bruises on the inside. My mom always brought me food from the cafeteria down a few floors. Typically it was just a sandwich and some juice. Since I wasn’t allowed out of the hospital, my therapist came to the hospital. 

I never liked when my mom sat with me during our visits. It made me uncomfortable and she understood that. She respected my wishes to be alone with the doctor. 

Her and I talked a lot about Frank and what happened a few nights ago. 

“How does that make you feel?”

“Used,” I replied, fairly quickly.

“Why?”

I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts. “I don’t know how Frank feels about what happened… But I feel as if he did it for his own humor. I couldn’t see, but he was probably laughing at me…”

“Not everyone is going to be nice as your mother or I,” she said, “and he might have been your childhood friend. But he isn’t going to be your friend if he uses a living person for humor.”

I nodded my head, understanding what she told me. Was Frank really my friend after all? Was he really just using me for a laugh between him and his friends? My therapist and I talked for the hour appointment we had. 

When I was discharged from the hospital, my mom took me to Wendy’s to get some lunch. I waited to get home to each my food my mom bought for me. It smelled delicious, but I held myself back. It was a Saturday afternoon and I could notice Frank playing basketball outside his house with his friends.

I quickly got out of the car and rushed myself inside. My mom saw the boys over there and I noticed she didn’t come inside as fast as I did. In fact, she didn’t at all for four minutes. Yeah, I counted. 

She came back inside when I was eating my burger with Frank. In a flash, I was upstairs in my room, leaving my food behind. I heard my mom call for me, but I didn’t want to see Frank. I was panicking, and real bad, too. What if he and my mother are going to gang up on me? I sat on my bed which was cover with a Star Wars blanket and pink pillow, which turned pink because my mom washed whites with reds. 

“Please!” I begged from my room, “Don’t let him near me!” Tears were falling from my eyes and it was getting worse. I was even shaking.

My mom came up to my room and closed the door behind her. It was only her. 

“Gerard, honey, it’s your mom, alright?” She said calmly, before putting her hand on my shoulder. I was very jumpy and constantly wanted to jump up and jump out a window or jump down the stairs. My mom stood me up and let me walk around the room. She kept her hand on my back. 

“Stay put, babe, I’ll be back in less than a minute,” My mom said, before walking out. She knew I would be okay considering my breathing was more controlled. I sat on my bed and rubbed my hands over the sheets.

She came back in 44 seconds with a cool, wet wash cloth. “Do you want me to wipe your face with this or yourself?”

I shook my hand and she rubbed my face with the cloth. It felt good on my warm skin. I was relaxing from my attack quickly, thanks to my mom and her training from my therapist.

Frank, however, was still downstairs, waiting for me.


End file.
